Therapy
by SunnyBurn
Summary: While staying at an inn, Hawke and Fenris enlist the help of Isabela to fulfill a fantasy, play a game, and perhaps exorcise some demons… though that could all just be an excuse. Fenris/F!Hawke, master/slave play and some bondage


"Joanna, I... are you sure you want this?" Fenris looked at her, uncertainty in his eyes. For all his well-guarded strength, he was capable of appearing startlingly vulnerable at times. As he sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees, Joanna felt the urge, as she often did, to smooth back the pale hair from his troubled brow, to soothe whatever worries he carried with him away. She settled for a warm smile, this time.

"Of course, Fenris. I think it took a lot of courage for you to ask this of me, and I think it will be good for you. Think of it as... therapy." Joanna's grin widened at Fenris' deep chuckle.

"Therapy. To cure me of what, I wonder? Surely my mind must be diseased, if I desire to subject the only one I care about to a... a parody of my own enslavement."

"Oh come, you are always so serious." Joanna laughed liltingly, reaching down to cup the face of her Elven lover. "It's just a game, Fenris."

"Is it?" Fenris stood, taking her hands in his, leaning forward so their foreheads touched and his brilliant eyes filled her vision. "What if I find I enjoy cruelty? I've been inclined to it in the past, Maker knows. What if I hurt you?"

"Now, Fenris. I am hardly a delicate little flower," said Joanna, with a sarcastic quirk of her mouth. "I can handle a little pain, more, even. I want you to hurt me, that's the idea."

"I suppose it is." He gave her one of his subtle smiles. "And I have no doubt you could stop me, if I did something you didn't want."

"Exactly." Joanna pulled away, somewhat reluctantly. "Now, you prepare yourself, and I'll do the same." She turned to the door and flashed him one more quick grin before she went through. She crossed the hall and entered Isabela's room, the noise and music and laughter drifting up from the tavern below becoming muted once again as she shut the door. The outfit was laid out on a chair, just as Joanna had been promised.

She undressed quickly, discarding her sensible tunic, breeches, and boots, and replacing them with the tight black leather corset and billowy skirt of a red, gauzy material, just translucent enough to not quite obscure the curves of her bare body beneath it. A series of gold chains, fine yet with surprising weight and strength to them, encircled each of her wrists, her ankles, and her waist, before trailing up her body to attach by a ring to a black leather collar, which Joanna fastened snugly around her own neck.

Thus costumed, she stood before the full-length mirror, studying her reflection curiously. She certainly no longer looked the way most would picture the Champion of Kirkwall. There was a bottle of perfume and some golden hair combs on a nearby table, laid out as if a suggestion by a helpful friend, which they probably had been. Joanna rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself, and picked up the bottle.

It smelled of jasmine and brown sugar, and Joanna dabbed some on each wrist, behind her ears, and, after a thoughtful pause, between her breasts. She then picked up the combs and began, inexpertly, to pin up her wavy, red hair. She wasn't used to treating her hair as a decoration; she tied it back if it got in her way, or she ignored it, usually. Her efforts with the combs went badly.

"Ah! Maker, I look like an Orlesian poodle."

"I knew it." A voice near the door caused Joanna to turn, a twinge of embarrassment at being discovered this way. Isabela leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on her lips. "She can survive the Deeproads, kill the Arishok in single combat, and bring revolution to Kirkwall, but the great Hawke cannot do her own hair."

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," said Joanna, teasingly.

"Why? I'm good at it." Isabela stepped forward and, with gentle yet firm hands, turned Joanna to face the mirror again. She began removing the sloppily placed combs, sorting through the tangles with her fingers. "Besides, I had a feeling you'd need the help of your thoughtful, clever, and devastatingly beautiful pirate companion again."

"Well, I suppose I did." Joanna watched as Isabela twisted, pinned, and sculpted her crimson colored locks into an elegant updo. "Thanks for all this, though. The outfits and everything, I mean."

"Hey, don't mention it." Isabela finished, leaving a tendril down to frame either side of Joanna's face. "Only thing I love more than having kinky sex is helping others do the same. There isn't enough love in the world, so I do what I can." She gave Joanna a pinch on the arm. "I did a good job picking this out though, didn't I? Hell, I'm tempted to jump your bones right now."

"Tempting as that may be," said Joanna with a laugh, giving Isabela a light punch on the shoulder, "I believe there is someone waiting for me."

"Yes, I believe there is." Isabela wrinkled her nose. "I expect a full report afterward."

"Not on your life."

"Oh, you're no fun!"

Joanna stuck her tongue out at her friend as she went through the door, shutting it firmly behind her. She crossed the hall again, relieved there was no one to see her, and entered her own quarters.

He sat there by the fire, one leg thrown over the arm of his chair, staring into the flames and, apparently, deep in thought. He wore a rich blue robe, of the sort an aristocrat would wear to relax in the comfort of his estate, and a pair of loose trousers that sat low on his hips; the robe was left untied in the front, giving her a glimpse of the delicate white lyrium tattoos on his chest. For all that they were most often seen as impoverished servants in Thedas these days, Elves had an unmistakably noble cast to their features, and Fenris, with his straight nose, high cheekbones, elegantly pointed ears, and luminous eyes, looked surprisingly at home in the fine garments. He could have been a prince, in another place or time, perhaps. A bottle of wine, opened, and a half drunk glass sat on the table near him, and he ran a strap of leather, a leash, through his slender fingers.

He looked up at her then, and it snapped her out of her contemplation. Remembering her role, Joanna sank to her knees, bowing her head before him.

"Master." She whispered the word, and stole a glance up at him. Fenris eyes widened, for just a moment, and his lips parted in something like surprise, but it was gone as quickly as it came. His face shifted into an expression of arrogance, the hint of a smirk at his lips.

"You are late, slave," he said, his voice nearly a growl, "I called for you half an hour ago."

"I am sorry, Master, I-" but he cut her off before she could finish. With that almost supernatural speed of his he stood, and in what seemed like one fluid motion crossed the floor to stand before her. Roughly, he yanked her to her feet by one arm, and with his other hand snapped the leash to the ring in her collar.

"You come when I call, slave, and not a minute after." He wrapped the leash around his fist and pulled her close to him, so she could feel his hot breath on her face. "Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes what, wretch?" He pulled the leash tighter.

"Yes, Master."

"That is better." He let the leash go slack, the end looped around his wrist, and returned to his seat, pulling her not-so gently after him. She let herself be lead, sitting at his feet as he once again returned to his lounging position in the chair.

"It is obvious you've lacked training. You need... discipline." Fenris picked up the wineglass and downed what was left in one swallow. "I suppose your training will be up to me." He looked down at her, and though he tried to mask it with his haughty demeanor, Joanna could see the hunger in his eyes. "For instance; my glass is now empty, slave. Why has it not yet been refilled?"

"Apologies, Master," she murmured, reaching up to take his glass. She rose on her knees to reach the bottle on the table, feeling his eyes on her all the while, and, with shaking hands, poured a measure of wine into the glass. Why were they shaking? From excitement? Fear? She had not imagined her Fenris could make her feel this way, but it was powerful, and alluring. She sat the bottle down and reached up, clasping the glass in both hands, to return it to him. Her unsteady hands caused the wine to slosh, and a drop escaped over the side, landing on the bare skin of his chest.

"Now look what you've done," said Fenris sternly, taking the glass. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand, drawing her up till she was nearly in his lap, her body suddenly pressed against his. "You are clumsy, slave." His voice rumbled in his chest, and Joanna was seized with a sudden urge. She leaned forward to lick the drop of wine from Fenris' skin, and felt the shudder through his body before he tossed her down. She landed hard, on her shoulder, and looked up to see a flame in his eyes.

"I did not give permission to touch me so, you impudent girl!" Fenris barked, cheeks flushed. "You forget you place!"

"My place is at your feet, Master!" Joanna cried, lowering her gaze from his. "I will do whatever you desire!" He studied her for a long moment, and seemed to regain some measure of his composure.

"You are quick to learn, pet, if clumsy, and willful." He sipped his wine slowly, his eyes never leaving her. "Still, you must be punished for your error." Fenris put the glass down and again began to wrap the leash around his fist, forcing Joanna to her knees. He gripped her chin roughly, so that she had to look into his face. She saw the hunger there again, and realized what he was doing; he would deny himself, by denying her.

"A rare beauty," Fenris smirked, trailing his fingers down her neck and shoulder, his other hand holding the leash tight, giving her no option but to hold her chin high. Joanna felt electrified where he touched her, as his fingers traveled over the exposed skin of her breasts, reaching, finally, the lacing at the front. He untied them hastily, pulling at the strings till they relented and her breasts sprang free of the tight garment. "Ah, rare indeed." He cupped her left breast in his hand, kneading her nipple roughly between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped, and his smirk deepened.

"It seems you desire more than just to please me, slave." His voice was low, almost purring; Joanna's knees felt weak, and it wasn't just because of the uncomfortable position he held her in. But she found herself jerked forward again, as Fenris pulled the fist containing her leash to his side, positioning her so far over his lap that her toes just barely touched the floor behind her. He took her wrists and bound them together by means of clasps on the chains she wore, a feature Joanna had not realized her costume possessed. Isabela must have pulled Fenris aside beforehand. But her thoughts did not linger on Isabela for long, for Fenris' hand was traveling up the side of her thigh, pushing her skirt away. She shivered at his touch, her skin breaking out in goose bumps, as he gently yet insistently pushed her knees apart.

"And here is evidence of your desire." His fingers brushed the short, curled hairs above her pubis before dipping between her nether lips, finding the moisture that had gathered there. Joanna bit her lip, writhing at his touch as his fingers probed deeper. "I can see that you want more, my pretty slave, but you have not yet earned it." Fenris withdrew his slick fingers and brought them to his lips, so that he could lick her moisture from them.

"Please, Master," Joanna panted, arching her back, "Whatever you want, I will do it." She was answered with a low chuckle.

"Indeed? Well then." Fenris took her by the shoulders and righted her again, set her gently down on her knees before him, though she sagged from the ache in her legs. He leaned forward to un-bind her wrists, his arms enveloping her momentarily, and then sat back again, watching her, fighting to hide his eagerness. "Go ahead. Show how you would please your master."

Joanna hesitated just a moment, rubbing her wrists, before she rose off her heels. She slipped one hand beneath his robe, running it over his stomach, and with the other, she tugged at the drawstring of his trousers. As she pulled the fabric down over his slender hips she wrapped her hand around his member, already standing at attention. She heard Fenris' breath quicken as she trailed her tongue along the length of it, before taking him into her mouth. He hissed through his clenched teeth, roughly shoving his hand through the hair at the back of her head and utterly destroying the elegant pile of curls Isabela had created.

"Yes, good girl..." Fenris growled, leaning his head back. He arched his hips into her and she matched his rhythm, slowly at first, then speeding up. Joanna could feel the rapid tempo of his heart beating through his blood, and she was not startled when a soft blue light encroached on the dim firelight; Fenris' lyrium markings, glowing as they often did when he was in states of high emotion. She allowed herself and inward smirk, for the master was in the slave's hands now. She quickened her rhythm, glancing up at him to judge his reaction. She sensed he was close, if she could only...

"Uhhn! Stop!" Fenris pulled back on her hair, yanking her away from him, and she cried out, partly from pain, partly from disappointment. His eyes smoldered as he looked at her, panting. "Not yet. I... I have decided to give you your reward, pet." He stood, shrugging off his robe as he went and letting his trousers pool around his feet, pulling Joanna up with him. He ripped the remaining clothes from her body, leaving her bare but for her collar and the chains. Effortlessly he swept her into his arms, strode to the bed, and tossed her on it. She struggled only a little as he tied each of her wrists to a bedpost with silken cords; another contribution by Isabela, Maker bless her! The hunger in his eyes was unguarded now, as he looked down at her, naked and helpless and flushed from the want of him.

"You have been a good slave," he whispered as he sat beside her on the bed, leaning over her. His markings throbbed with his heartbeat, with the pent up desire inside of him. His hands caressed her body, never staying in one place for long. Fenris teased her with his fingers, and then with his mouth. He kissed along her collarbone, making her shiver, then cry out when he punctuated the kisses with small bites. He ran his tongue around her areola, causing the nipple to harden so he could suck it. His hands trailed down her body and between her legs, dipping once again into her sex, which had grown considerably wetter.

With a fox-like grin he pushed her knees apart, positioning himself between them and using his fingers to spread the folds of her vulva. Joanna whimpered and arched her hips towards him as he circled her clitoris with his tongue. With an aching slowness he licked her, his fingers entering her again, reaching inside to find her most intimate spot. Her soft cries became louder, and she strained at the cords about her wrists, hating them as they prevented her from touching her Elven lover, from running her fingers through his hair as he pleasured her, yet loving them for the pull and the ache in her arms, the frustration that seemed to amplify the sensations traveling over her body.

"Oh, yes, Maker, don't stop..." she gasped, and heard Fenris' rasping chuckle. He rose above her again, taking her chin in his hand, still probing into her sex with the other.

"You cry out for your Maker, my pet," his voice was a feral sound, a growl next to her ear. "But I am the only Maker you need." He kissed her then, fiercely capturing her mouth with his. His fingers redoubled their efforts and Joanna cried her release into his mouth, coming with a shuddering violence, her heels digging into the feather mattress. Still he kissed her insistently, his tongue probing her lips open, and she could taste herself on him as the explosive warmth spread through her.

The shockwaves had not yet subsided in her when Fenris pulled away, rising to his knees and roughly grabbing her hips. He positioned his member at her opening, and paused only a second before thrusting into her, burying himself to the hilt with a small grunt. In that moment the mask of the arrogant noble fell from his face, and Joanna saw only his want reflected back at her in those amazing eyes of his. His chest heaved with the effort as he bucked into her, as he finally gave into his own desires. She whispered his name, her legs encircling his waist, as if she could bring him in deeper if she only tried. She felt the pressure building in her again, and from the look on his face, she knew he would soon no longer be able to hold back his own release.

She was right. Fenris came with a cry, teeth barred, and Joanna came again with him, her hips rising to meet his as has his warmth erupted into her. His markings glowed their brightest as he continued to thrust, though the urgency began to ebb away, and his breath came in short, exhausted gasps. Finally, he collapsed, nuzzling her neck contentedly as his arms encircled her.

"That... that was..." he didn't bother finishing, but let out a long, shaky sigh. Joanna laughed breathlessly.

"Yes, it certainly was." She smiled down at him lovingly. Her hair, now a wild mass of half pinned locks and tangles, fell into her face, and she tried in vain to blow it away. She tugged experimentally at her bonds, and found the ache in her arms was growing more insistent.

"Fenris, I think- ow. I think I want you to untie me now," said Joanna, her lungs struggling to expand under the Elf's increasingly oppressive weight. "My arms hurt. And you're heavy. What did you eat for breakfast, rocks? For someone so skinny, you're awfully dense."

"Is that any way to speak to your master?" Fenris lifted his head, mischief in his eyes. Joanna tried to kick him.

"Master my ass. I seem to remember you claiming to be my Maker a while ago. What would Sebastian say if he heard such blasphemy?"

"I have a feeling that Sebastian would not approve of any of the things we just did," said Fenris, a flush coming to his face. "So it's a good thing that neither of us will be telling him about it, yes?"

"How did you come up with that line, anyway? Have you been reading Varric's awful romance novels again?" Joanna teased as Fenris reluctantly sat up, his blush deepening.

"Do you wish to be untied or not?" he huffed, and Joanna answered with a laugh. He gave her a put-upon look and began to work at freeing her wrists. "I don't know where it came from, it just felt… when I was in Tevinter, there were many magisters who considered themselves akin to gods, and lorded over their slaves as such. I suppose I was caught up in the moment, and it felt… appropriate."

"You did seem quite… caught up." Joanna grinned impishly up at him. Fenris snorted, releasing her second wrist. She flexed her arms, her joints creaking, a sharp feeling of pins and needles shooting through them. Fenris lay down next to her as she rubbed the life back into the abused limbs, and he gently folded her into his arms, smoothing the hair from her face and kissing her temple. She snuggled into him, resting her head on his shoulder, enjoying that she could now touch him as she wanted.

"So." She ran her hands over his chest. "Did you find that you enjoy cruelty?" Fenris' laugh was a deep rumble.

"Perhaps. A little. But only with a willing slave." He tugged softly at the chains that still trailed down over her body. "You made a beautiful one, by the way."

"And you made a very handsome noble. One might almost believe you'd been born to it." She planted a kiss on his collarbone. "We will have to thank Isabela again for finding us those outfits, and providing the other… accoutrements."

"Three sovereigns says Isabela is waiting for us downstairs as we speak, ready to pounce with a thousand and one questions about what just transpired," said Fenris, rolling his eyes.

"I might as well bet against the sky being blue!" Joanna giggled. "Well, I won't tell if you won't."

"Not a word. We'll end up in one of Varric's ridiculous romances and neither of us will ever live it down."

"Exactly. In fact, those vultures can wait. I have no desire to be anywhere right now but exactly where I am."

"Neither do I."


End file.
